<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Loveliest of Summer Dreams by Mercshy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157035">The Loveliest of Summer Dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercshy/pseuds/Mercshy'>Mercshy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Folklore, Friendship, Midsummer traditions, Romantic Gestures, True Love Reveals, aeweek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:14:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercshy/pseuds/Mercshy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Oh, Elia! Aren’t you at least a tiny bit curious?” Larra asked in her sing-song voice. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Yes! Don’t you wish to know who your true love is?” Ashara chimed in.</i>
</p><p>Wherein ancient traditions allow you to dream of your true love on Midsummer's Eve and Elia is less than thrilled at the prospect until an unexpected gesture changes her mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Dayne/Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne &amp; Elia Martell, Larra Blackmont &amp; Elia Martell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Loveliest of Summer Dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, in Nordic folklore/tradition, if you pick seven or nine flowers and sleep with them under your pillow on Midsummer's eve you should dream of your true love and thus this fic was born.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh, Elia! Aren’t you at least a tiny bit curious?” Larra asked in her sing-song voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Don’t you wish to know who your true love is?” Ashara chimed in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elia took a deep breath of the pleasantly warm summer air. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky wonderful hues of oranges to purples and blues and a light breeze was passing through the open field to die at the forest edge they were at. In the distance, a small bonfire could be seen rising up towards the sky by the old stone mansion, a light to guide them home and right now she wanted nothing more than to fall down onto her bed and rest after the long day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking up at her friends from her crouching position on the ground, almost entirely covered by the tall flowers surrounding them, she found both of them staring at her with pleading puppy eyes; Ashara’s violet ones catching the last rays of the sun and shining like brilliant amethysts and Larra had that smile on her lips, equal parts conspiratory and endearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why does it matter?” Elia questioned instead, gathering sticks and dead flowers for the bonfire happening the following night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because, because - it’s just so romantic,” Ashara answered, that daydream haze in her eyes she often got when she was picturing her fairytale knight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you fear who you might see?” Larra asked, almost always to the point in her mannerism as she levelled her with a serious expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Per the custom, Elia could have had one dream of her true love already. She was seventeen now and a woman grown by all accounts. But she had never been enamoured by the idea, not like Ashara who had just turned sixteen and could finally follow all the steps of the ritual to dream of her love. To Elia it just seemed pointless, she already knew who her love was and perhaps Larra was right. Perhaps she was afraid that the face of another would reveal itself and she didn’t know if she could bear it should it happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she denied, unwilling to fully acknowledge her fears out loud. “It just won’t change anything, what I see in some dream.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it is not just some dream,” Ashara pleaded to deaf ears and yet Elia felt her heart warming at the sight of the younger girl so obviously happy and excited.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most girls her age would be picking the most delicate flowers they could find before the sunset and string them all together into a beautiful bouquet to rest under their pillows. It was a nice fairytale dream, an old tradition from the Valyrian times which entranced with the prospect of </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowledge</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Elia though preferred to pick sticks for the bonfire to keep the forces of darkness at bay - when the summer days were so long the creatures of darkness roamed further than they normally would dare to and their only protection was fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To me it is. Are you going to help me with these sticks or do I have to do it all myself?” Elia asked, making sure to lace enough humour into her tone for her friends to not take serious offence, but not too much as to make her standpoint unclear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Larra sighed, bending down to pick up her basket full of oak branches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ashara followed suit and with some struggle, they walked back down the beaten path cutting through the field and back to the stone building. It was by all accounts an ugly thing, far too gloomy in the beauty of the nature surrounding it and in need for some restoration to the section which had been consumed by fire many decades ago - it had been during drunken dances and the lighting of far too many bonfires that the accident had occurred, or at least so the stories went. But there never seemed to be enough time and as it was only an insignificant section it was not prioritised. Perhaps once, when it had first been raised with carefully placed stones, it had been a beautiful sight. Only the fond memories of Elia’s youth spent chasing her brothers through the fields or playing hide and seek inside the stone walls made the summer seat truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Discarding the branches by the greenhouse attached to the far left side of the mansion, the trio quickly headed inside to prepare for bed. Tomorrow would be a big day and it would not do to spend the entirety of it exhausted from the day prior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made quick work of washing up after the long day outside and bidding their goodnights to the rest of the household before heading for the kitchen to collect the bouquets. Ashara had already picked her flowers, waiting for her in a crystal vase and as vibrant as a summer night sky with pinks, whites, blues, reds and purples blending together seamlessly. Larra’s bouquet, by contrast, was much simpler, containing only one of each of the nine required flowers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her older friend was a curious case. Like most girls, she had slept with a bouquet made less extravagant with each passing year under her pillow on midsummer eve. Four dreams in total and never had she managed to fully see her lover’s face. It had always been partly obscured by a dreamy haze or unfocused when she had looked at him. It was rare but it did happen and for all of her own unwillingness to pick a bouquet, Elia admired her continuous attempts every year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you dream sweetly, Larra,” Ashara said with the kindest smile gracing her lips before bidding them both goodnight and leaving them alone as she took a left at the foot of the stairs just outside the kitchen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elia turned to her friend, outstretched her arms for a warm embrace she accepted. “I hope you will see your love this year. But if it is not to happen, please remember that it does not make you any less than the brilliant lady you are,” she murmured gently into her ear, felt Larra squeeze her tighter and nod at her words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Elia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Parting, Larra turned towards the long hallway opposite that which Ashara had disappeared down, threw her a look over her shoulder and said softly, “I will see you tomorrow, sleep well.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You too,” Elia replied and climbed the stairs up to her own bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Entering her room, she leaned back against the closed door and sighed, content to have avoided any further attempts at convincing her to participate in the ancient ritual. Pushing off the door she marvelled at the coldness of her room. To combat the pressing heat of daytime which seemed to linger in the old stone building well past sundown, she had left the balcony doors cracked open during the day and was pleased to find it so chilly. With hurried movements, she undressed and slipped into her pastel yellow nightdress and went to lay in her bed. That was when she noticed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On her pillow, neatly tied together with a ribbon in Dayne colours, laid a bouquet. It was an innocent enough gesture, one that might have been attributed to Ashara’s stubbornness, her soft spot for all things romantic, but Elia knew better. With tentative steps, she inched closer, thought to throw a look around the room in case he was still there, but was only met with silence and the soft hues of the evening sky spilling through her windows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She regarded the flowers with much apprehension. If he was so bold to leave her flowers, surely then he must have dreamt of her and she knew he would not gamble with such a serious matter for the sake of romantic gestures - he must know that she would dream of him. A small part of her mind immediately raised the question of what she might do if she saw another, but her heart quickly replied: </span>
  <em>
    <span>he is your true love</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Tentatively, she reached out to touch the purple petals, then the pink and whites, soft as silk under her fingertips. When he had found the time to pick them she did not know, but his message was clear: </span><em><span>dream of me</span></em><span>.</span> <span>Gently, her hand slid around the stems tied together with the ribbon, briefly toying with the purple fabric, the weight of the flowers close to feather-light before she took a short breath and lifted her pillow, choosing to trust him. Laying the bouquet down horizontally, she covered the flowers with the blush-pink pillow and pulled back the covers to slip into bed.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a while of nervous energy coursing through her in a far too electrifying manner to allow her immediate rest, but when sleep eventually came, lulling her into a sweet world illuminated by a soft, warm glow, it was deep purple eyes and hair as dark as her own she saw. She saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>Arthur</span>
  </em>
  <span> and her heart, even in the dream, lept at the sight of her true love.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>